


Weights

by Isola_Caramella



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-18 00:51:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10605882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isola_Caramella/pseuds/Isola_Caramella
Summary: No read through and no beta, all mistakes are my ownA girl owns nothing and is thankful for everything





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seamscribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seamscribe/gifts).



> No read through and no beta, all mistakes are my own
> 
> A girl owns nothing and is thankful for everything

"Still mooning over this fucker?" Sandor grunted as he tilted a picture of Brienne with Jaime and Tyrion from a corporate training event from over a year ago.

"I don't moon over Jaime Lannister, I'm not his type."

"You have the hair just not the right DNA."

"Don't be crude."

"That's the worst kept secret from Dorne to the Wall. Stannis blew the lid off of that after Baratheon kicked the bucket."

"Do you want the weights or not? I have to meet Arya later to tutor her and I need to catch up on some work."

"Sorry didn't mean to insult your golden boy. Forgot how devoted you are to him."

Brienne pinched the bridge of her nose and called on each of the Seven to give her patience. The reassignment to the corporate office in the Vale was supposed to be a fresh start and peace and quiet. First Arya had started university at Eyrie and Catelyn had pleaded with her to tutor Arya when she started falling behind, more intent on practicing Braavosi fighting skills than calculus. Then she'd walked into work one day to find Sandor taking a tour of the corporate offices and she was tasked with handling his transfer paperwork. He was her only reminder of the life she left in King's Landing, which all told wasn't terrible. Quiet, rude and he didn't sexually harass the interns or cause her mountains of paperwork. Human Resources for a company as large as Casterly Enterprises was hard enough without handsy employees. In King's Landing she'd been a wheel on a cog but the transfer to the Vale had transferred her to benefits management of the Casterly Bank branches scattered from the Bloody Gate to the Three Sisters Islands. Solitude had lasted six beautiful months. Gym, work, a run around her neighborhood, dinner, bed.

Now she saw Arya at least four times a week for tutoring and another seven when the restless teenager wanted to complain about the unfairness of the expectation of women, or when she was bored and just hung around Brienne's living room reading what Sandor called her feminist manifestos on the Last Age of the Targaryens and how female rule had established Westeros as one of the most progressive in the world. Sandor's house was only a block over from her own small corporate paid for house until they either transferred again or settled permanently and found their own accommodations. He'd started tagging along on her runs with no invitation, he didn't talk her ears off with incessant prattling so she'd shrugged it off. Her poor father had assumed Sandor was her young man on his last visit and she didn't have the heart to correct him. He was the only one under the well meaning assumption that Brienne would ever have a man, young or otherwise.

"I am not devoted to Jaime, he is a colleague and a friend. Nothing more."

"Lie to yourself all you want blondie."

"You're the only one that brings Jaime up, every time. Maybe you should check who's devoted to whom. Why do you even care?"  
Sandor stood to his full height and crowded her, towering over her considerable frame, making Brienne step back. One calloused hand went around her waist and pulled her flush against him. Brienne instinctively put her hands up to push away but his mouth was on hers, unhurried and seeking. A small jolt made her clutch his shirt and his tongue traced a line along her bottom lip before pulling it into mouth. When he let her go she found she was standing on the tips of her toes, pressing herself as close as possible. She flushed immediately, crossing her arms over her chest and cursing her own stupidity. One kiss and she had turned into a creeping vine, forgetting who she was and why Sandor had only been her second kiss.

"Whoa! Should I come back later?" Arya's distaste evident on her scrunched face.

"Yes you nosy little shit."

"Sandor!"

"She's early for fuck's sake." Sandor groused as his hand creeped down to adjust himself. Brienne felt the blush start at the base of her neck and looked at the neglected plant in the corner of her living room instead. "I'll come back for the weights later. Enjoy your I hate men bra burning session."

He wasn't back by the time Arya decided to make her way back to campus and the giggly boy crazy roommate she despised. Throwing more than one hint that Brienne needed a roommate instead of living like a maiden aunt when she wasn't even twenty-five. In truth, Arya was the closest thing she'd ever had to any sort of friend but living with another person was the last thing she wanted to experience.

As she dragged the box of weights to the door to give to Sandor in the morning, the doorbell rang, startling her enough to drop the edge of the box on her toe. Sharp pain ran up her leg and almost drew a loud curse. If it was Arya again she was going to kill her.

Grey eyes raked over her from head to foot before he brought them back to her face again. "Fuck's wrong with your foot?"

"I dropped the box of weights on it because someone rang my door bell late at night." Brienne hissed through clenched teeth, turning around to hobble to the kitchen for ice. The ground gave out from under her feet, Sandor picking her up as easily as someone half her size. Depositing her on the couch and rolling off her sock. Her toe was purple and each time he moved it, tears welled up. He left and came back with the ice, throwing her legs over his lap and holding the ice against her toe.

His large hand clenched on her thigh when the muscle underneath flexed involuntarily; Sandor took in her pale skin and squeezed shut eyes and grunted in the box of his throat. "It's not broken, stop your crying. I've had leg cramps that hurt more than this."

She wanted to respond but the flip in her stomach as his fingers made wandering little circles on her thighs stopped her. A childhood full of deportment lessons and a cruel septa making her uncomfortable in her own flesh. Sandor was being kind and she'd learned long ago not to mistake kindness or friendly touches for more than they were. "I...I can make do from here. I was going to bed anyway."

  
"At nine o'clock? You are a fucking septa." He eased her fully onto his lap and she felt him, hard and thick against her hip. A startled _oh_ escaped as she tried to back away but his arm was firmly around her waist. "Stop moving."

Brienne did as directed and let Sandor carry her to her room and put her to bed. Too many half formed thoughts running through her head to be of any use. There was a familiar ache taking residence between her thighs and she wanted to analyze what in the Seven Hells was possessing Sandor, first the kiss and now his hard flesh scorching her hip.

Once her foot was propped up on two pillows he went through the house turning off lights and locking her front door and coming back to her room, turning off the overhead light and leaving her lamp on. He crawled into her bed and grabbed the hem of her sleep shorts between two fingers, "Do you wear these to sleep every night?"

"Sometimes."

"Thank fuck for that." He kissed her fully then, large hand gripping her waist as she tried to keep up, but her inexperience was evident and she felt too self conscious to try and match his fervor, pulling away to catch her breathe. "What?"

"Sorry...I don't know...I've never..."

"Never what? Kissed anyone?"

"Once, but it wasn't like this." Brienne thought of the misguided kiss she'd given Renly briefly before looking at Sandor again, his storm grey eyes were black with only a ring of grey at the very outer edges.

"That explains a shit ton."

"Like what?"

"Why you're so skittish if I look at you for too long, the post-High Sparrow clothes and why you didn't recognize my attempts at courtly wooing. I told my sister that was bullshit by the way. But she's like you, reading fucking medieval romance novels for fun."

"What attempts at courtly wooing? Showing up for my runs uninvited?"

"Moving here for a start. It took forever for a position to open up."

Brienne let the shock of that roll through her, and decided it was enough for one day. Asking instead for some pain reliever and an anti inflammatory before turning off her lamp and waiting for her unexpected bed partner to fall asleep and let her think.


	2. Chapter 2

He tried to think of anything but the feel of Brienne around him. Gregor's face had worked briefly but then she'd clenched around his cock and squeezed her eyes shut, fingers gripping his shoulders hard enough to leave bruises later. He came with a groan that was part frustration, part pleasure, the music dock on the nightstand showing he'd lasted less than seven minutes. Brienne's heart raced under his hand, his own competing with fervor.

"That didn't last long."

"Sorry." He knew the catch in her voice too well, had heard it countless time from men who didn't want to betray weakness and cry in front of their fellow soldiers. People who were used to swallowing pain.

"Why would you be..." Sandor froze at the sight of her silently leaking tears. She hadn't cried when the maesters reset the two toes the weights had fractured months back. Just glared at him icily and damned him to the first rung of hell. He'd used the six weeks it took for her toes to heal to ingratiate himself further in her life. Picking her up for work, lunch, dinner and sleeping on her couch just in case, banished from her bed after his lucky night.

The trip to Gulltown was his sister's idea, another round of "do something Brienne likes to show you're interested." The regatta had bored him to tears but her eyes had been bright and she was finally off of her crutches and able to walk around.

When she'd let his good night kiss stray long past goodbye he'd taken it as a sign; instead of a sweaty and pliant Brienne under him, he had a nervous, pale wreck. Arm slung across her chest, shrinking into herself rapidly.

"Brienne, what's going on? Did I hurt you?"

"No...I forgot...the lights...sorry." The irrepressible need to apologize irked him on a good day but he could feel anger working up the base of his skull.

"What about the lights?"

Sandor heard the _so you could see someone else_ and wanted to shake her, to scream at her to stop being an idiot. He only knew how to deal with his own hatred of how he looked, had fallen in love with Brienne the second she'd looked into his eyes instead of at his ear or the disfigured half of his face. War taking more from him than it given. He kissed her instead, hard, pulling gasping moans from her without letting her catch a good breath. He threatened more than one asshole in King's Landing for their treatment of her and it had spread quickly and quietly to never say her name around him if you wanted to keep your tongue.

"I only want to see you blondie, no one else."

They kissed until their lips were red and swollen, until he pulled back to rest his forehead against her temple. The rapidly cooling condom hanging off of his now half hard cock made him roll over to discard it, noticing the now drying blood and the quarter sized stain on the hotel sheets. He pinched the condom off to throw it in the small thrash can resting next to the bed, grabbing the box of tissues to help them clean up. He should have known when it had taken so long to work his way into her, her reasons her own for not telling him beforehand; Sandor felt slightly better at his dismal performance.

Faint bruises were already marring her hips, purple and discordant with the pale skin. He bent down to kiss each one, running his tongue across warm soft skin. He turned Brienne to him, looking down at pale lashes against pale skin as she fought against herself. Arching into his touch before retreating, over and over again. He'd seen enough bored highborn wives play coy as they rode his cock to forget the failings of their old husbands to know Brienne wasn't putting on a show for his benefit. Whatever courage had made her stay in his room had ebbed away.

"We can stay for another day, the boat show is tomorrow. The Kraken 450 looked nice."

"We'll miss work if we stay tomorrow, it's a three hour drive to get home and the boat show isn't finished until past seven."

"That's the fucking point. You didn't even take a day off for your foot, let's stay."

Blue eyes looked up him to reprove him, for his foul mouth or for daring to recommend skipping work he wasn't sure but the self doubt had been replaced and that was enough. He pulled the comforter over them, willing his cock to go back down. Failing in that endeavor too.

Sandor knew he didn't deserve any of this, he'd slept with enough women who saw a dog to tame or women who just needed a cock to stretch them and give them pleasure they'd never get at home. Slept with fellow soldiers wives off base while their husbands were being shipped off to the farthest of the seven hells just to quiet the anger and hatred that got louder at night. The cost of a war he didn't want to fight. Fuck everyone over before they even thought of doing the same to him. His sister had screamed at him, pleaded with him, begged him to stop torturing himself and get help. Left her husband and their small children to force him to go to the Quiet Isles and spent the last of her inheritance for treatment after he'd gotten into a deadly fight over a general's wife. Upon his release she'd been outside with her patient smile and big grey eyes full of tears telling him he deserved happiness.

He may have deserved happiness but he could never fathom deserving the woman who had her hand resting on the scarred side of his face as she slept.


End file.
